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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744640">how not to break the dress code</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSkys/pseuds/SunflowerSkys'>SunflowerSkys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Elias Bouchard is an asshole, Found Family?, Jon does a full 180 from skepticism to paranoia and it doesn't make anything any better, No beta we die like archival assistants, Tim is so fed up with everything, all the non-archival employees are like, also why is it so hard to find the character tags, more like bound together under an eldritch god family, office gossip, outsider pov, seriously can the archives just stop being spooky for 5 minutes, the archives are very creepy, the magnus archives is an office comedy, what the hell kind of job are we working at</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:48:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSkys/pseuds/SunflowerSkys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Before the whole Gertrude incident, it was the general feeling in the office gossip that the archives and artefact storage had been pretty much tied on their creepiness levels. </i>
</p><p>
<i>Unfortunately, the mysterious disappearance of a head archivist leaving behind only copious amounts of blood had raised the standards slightly</i>.
</p>
<p>
Featuring Jon's descent into dishevelry, the increasing aggression of Tim's t-shirts and Martin's being an immovable force of perfect jumpers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James &amp; Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before the whole Gertrude incident, it was the general feeling in the office gossip that the archives and artefact storage had been pretty much tied on their creepiness levels. </p><p>Unfortunately, the mysterious disappearance of a head archivist leaving only behind copious amounts of blood had raised the standards slightly. </p><p>People don't tend to just <i>disappear</i> from Artifact Storage, not that Lucie Walkman from Communications knows, or really <i>wants</i> to know what goes on down there. When people leave Artifact Storge , it's usually on the grounds of “mental trauma.” Lucie hates to think of what kind of object in a research facility can cause "mental trauma,” and nobody who she’s ever known working down there has kept their job long enough for her to ask.</p><p>For at least a week after "the incident", the whole Institute is abuzz with theorising and worrying. Why Gertrude? Who was the murderer? Was the old women cover a front? Are they secretly working for some kind of paper based mafia? As long as Lucie has been working at her job there, which has actually been quite a substantial amount of time now, it has only ever been Gertrude working in the archives. But some of the older colleagues swear up and down that Gertrude used to have a whole bunch of past assistants.</p><p>“If Gertrude’s had an assistant recently,” Ian from the desk next to her points out when they’re discussing it, “then they’re not on any company records. But I swear a couple of years ago, there was this weird goth kid that used to drop by looking for her.”</p><p>And if that’s not suspicious, Lucie doesn’t know what is.</p><p>Then, after a weeks or so of tedious police interviews, the strips of yellow tape blocking the archives door are removed, and some guy from research, Jon Sims gets promoted. </p><p>He's odd, but everyone who works at a place like the Magnus Institute is guaranteed to be a little weird, so that doesn't make him much of an outlier. </p><p>The Office break room concludes while discussing the matter, that not much is really known about Jonathan Sims. Most people have only interacted with the man once or twice, as he seems to avoid human contact like an infectious disease. So, it's not surprising that when he goes, he takes the only two people that he's ever been reported having a prolonged conversation with along with him: Tim Stoker and Sasha James.</p><p>“Did ya hear Martin Blackwood from the library has been transferred too?” says one of the numerous Chris’ of research, whose surname Lucie has forgotten. “It was kind of unexpected. Like, I don’t think he’s ever even had an interaction with Sims.” </p><p>Chris turns his attention back to attempting to weasel coffee out of a complaining machine, and Lucie sips at her own lukewarm drink.</p><p>“I hear Elias actually requested for him to be moved.”</p><p>“Huh. Weird. Oh well, the guy must have his reasons.”</p><p>Lucie doesn’t really know Martin, but she’s seen him around before. He’s tallish, but has a habit of shrinking in on himself as if he’d rather not be. Last time she’d seen him, he’d been wearing a light blue jumper hadn’t he? It had had cloud on. She remembers wondering if he made them himself.</p><p>The discussion over Sim’s promotion is still going on however, so she turns her attention back to the conversation.</p><p>Honestly, the only observation that they're able to come to (apart from the fact that every word he spoke seemed to be with either completely intentional or otherwise oblivious rudeness) is that he dresses like the textbook example of the dress code. Shirt always neatly ironed, glasses perched on his nose a chain that Matt from IT claims is the same kind that his Grandma wears.</p><p>
  <b>.....</b>
</p><p>Soon enough though, things die down a little, and conversation around the office moves away from Gertrude’s disappearance/brutal murder, and onto more pressing matters such as the fact that Elias seems to have had the same haircut for all of the 20 odd years he’s been running the institute. (<i>Honestly</i>, moans Jenny from research, <i>does the guy have any sense of style</i>..)</p><p>Maybe in other jobs, the alleged death of a co-worker would create more of a fuss, but if there’s one thing that everyone in the institute knows (at least the ones who last at their jobs know) and never talk about, it’s to keep your head down, not cause a fuss, and to not ask questions. Besides, Lucie needs this job, and she’s not about to do anything to get herself fired.</p><p>
  <b>.....</b>
</p><p>The first time Lucie sees Tim breaking the dress code, it's nothing too extravagant. She's passing by him on the stairs when she notices him, so pauses for conversation. Nobody's really seen all that much of Tim since he'd got transferred to the archives, but she'd always kind of liked the guy, even if they’d only had a real conversation on one or two occasions. He stops when she greets him, and they exchange idle small talk; bosses, work, meetings.. before she manages to steer the conversation round to the shirt.</p><p>The shirt in question is rather hard to ignore. It's coloured a bright, eye watering pink, and Hawaiian themed in nature. Tim grins as she asks, eyes alight with ill-concealed mischief, and he leans round the pile of old looking papers he’s got collected in his arms to speak.</p><p>“It's a kind of joke me and Sasha have got going on, “</p><p>He confides, whispering in in a conspirtual manner even though there's practically nobody else around. </p><p>"We're seeing how long it takes the old bossman to notice. I swear he thinks taking a break would kill him, ever since we transferred down to the archives I've barely seen him take his nose out of those old statements. I mean, I don’t think he even remembers to get lunch half the time! I’m pretty sure he’s sustaining himself purely on academic spite at his point.”</p><p>Lucie nods non-committedly, and Tim continues.<br/>
“It’s going to be great once he realises though:” </p><p>He spreads one hand outwards as if painting an imaginary scene, leaving the papers to wobble dangerously in is remaining arm. </p><p>"Tim is that," Lucie tries not to be amused by the theatrically posh voice, "a <i>violation</i> of rule 237 of the handbook?! Disgraceful.”</p><p>“Well, it's your funeral if Elias catches you,” She says dryly.</p><p> If Tim wants to risk Elias deducting his pay grade, then that’s his business. They part ways, and Lucie forgets all about it.</p><p>(<i>Though not before she sees a slightly ashamed looking Tim being cornered by an irate Elias in the hallway outside the archives</i>).</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Magnus Institute is a mess, and everyone knows it.</p>
<p>“Why,” moans Ian to Lucie while they sort through old invoices together, “Can’t we just have a normal year? I mean, is that really too much to ask? First it’s Gertrude pulling a disappearing act, then we get quarantined for “Unknown parasites” apparently. Then to top it all off, Gertrude makes a reappearance, and guess what? She’s dead!”</p>
<p>Lucie does her best to block out the noise, nodding along absentmindedly whenever Ian’s tone of voice reaches a crescendo. She’s worked at her job for five years dammit, and she’s not about to break her “<i>Didn’t see it, didn’t happen</i>” motto now. Everyone knows that the safest way to keep your job is to stay a healthy distance away from trouble. This usually equates to giving both Artifact storage and the Archives a wide berth, but honestly, Lucie’s not about to complain about that. </p>
<p>
  <b>.....</b>
</p>
<p>The table in the office break room is fast becoming a graveyard of discarded coffee cups. Piles of used mugs line up against the wall sadly, any liquid they might have once held long since solidified inside them. The coffee machine seems to have had a nervous breakdown, and now alternates between shooting out streams of boiling water at dangerous velocities, to only producing a thick, blackish liquid that faintly resembles coffee. </p>
<p>Nobody quite seems sure of what had happened to put the machine in that state, but Chris No.1 swears that Jonathan Sims had something to do with it.</p>
<p>“Came in here after hours,” he explains when questioned on his argument. “I was just coming back to pick up some folders I’d forgotten, and happened to walk by the door. I looked it, and there was someone moving around. Thought we’d been broken into! So, I go in, right? Figure it’s a cleaner maybe, but it’s <i>Jonathan bloody Sims</i>, and he’s dissembling the fucking coffee machine! Apparently he was “Checking them for sabotage.” Like, what <i>the hell</i> is his problem?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, clearly mourning the loss of the coffee machine deeply. </p>
<p>Lucie is fairly sure that Chris has just knocked the machine over himself and doesn’t want to pay for a new one, but she doesn’t bother raising an argument. That is, until she comes across Jonathan Sims herself.</p>
<p>The man is, to put it bluntly, almost as much of a mess as the institute is. Lucie wasn’t even looking for him when she ran into him while moving some papers for Ian, so the surprise makes the experience even more confusing.</p>
<p>From a distance, he doesn’t look much different from what she’d heard about him, and from the few sights of him she’s had while he was working in research. His shirt is a clean white, and the glasses are still firmly on his nose. However, that illusion of orderliness is quickly shattered the moment Lucie takes a proper look at him from where he had landed on the floor after their collision.</p>
<p>His dark brown hair seems to be making quite a concerted effort to outgrow its shorter haircut, leaving Sims with a kind of bedraggled look. He’s still covered in small gauze patches from the so called “mysterious parasite invasion,” and that does nothing to help the effect. His shirt is still ironed, she’ll give him that, but it has a look as if it has been ironed with more force then one usually irons a shirt, leaving it with a stiff sort of look. </p>
<p>He glares at her from the floor, and she immediately attempts to start an apology, but he cuts her off.</p>
<p>“It’s fine. Just watch out where you’re going next time.”</p>
<p>Alright, if he wants to be like that, then fine. It’s not Lucie’s problem.</p>
<p>She notices that one of the various tape recorders that Sim’s seems to have had stuffed in the bag at his side has skittered across the stone floor to land at her feet. She reaches down to grab it, but before her fingers can even touch it, Jonathan lunges towards it.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Don’t touch that!”</i>
</p>
<p>Lucie takes a very pronounced step backwards, picks up the few papers she herself had spilled, and tries not to stare upwards desperately to the ceiling as if it will give her answers. <i>Didn’t see it, didn’t happen. My co-worker isn’t having a mental breakdown, everything’s fine.</i></p>
<p>Jon is still piling tapes into the frankly undersized bag with frantic energy, but Lucie is suddenly aware of another person in the until now empty corridor.</p>
<p>Martin takes in the scene with wide eyes, clearly as confused as she is. Then, his face takes on a look of tired resignation, and he sighs.</p>
<p>He smooths down a very nice looking jumper now that Lucie looks at it, a chunky wool knitted thing dyed an aesthetic lilac. She’s seriously got to figure out where he’s getting these things from.</p>
<p>Sims is still picking up detritus from the floor, and Martin pinches the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>“Jon.”</p>
<p>Jon whips around at the sound of his name, disturbing the tapes in his bag so that they clatter against each other violently.</p>
<p>“Yes? What?”<br/>
Martin sighs again, a deep, world-weary noise.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you come with me back to the archives, and leave poor..” he trails of awkwardly, glancing at Lucie, who makes no move to supply her name.</p>
<p>“..just come on. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>Sims shoots Blackwood a look clearly filled with deep suspicion, but straightens himself out anyway. Lucie is just about to turn around and forgo bringing Ian’s papers to research, (honestly, he can do it himself) when oh joy of joys she finds the corridor in front of her filled with more people.</p>
<p>“What is going on here.”</p>
<p>It’s Tim and Sasha. Or at least, Lucie’s pretty sure it’s Sasha. It takes her a moment to reorganise Sasha in her mind’s eye. She’s only talked to Sasha once or twice, but she could have sworn that she’s never seen Sasha wearing jeans. She usually wore skirts? Long flowy things that worked great with her height. Only that couldn’t be right because Sasha was short, wasn’t she? Sasha’s always been short. Maybe she just wore really tall heels before or something. If that’s the case, then Lucie can’t blame her for getting rid of them, she’s never been one for wearing heels either. </p>
<p>Tim looks about as tired as Lucie feels, and his shirt is unbuttoned to reveal a t-shirt that simply reads why in black curly font. Lucie’s not sure how he has gone the whole day so far without being reprimed for it, but she supposes that he must button up his overshirt whenever he sees anyone approaching. </p>
<p>Tim glares at Jon, and Jon glares right back at him. The atmosphere has become immediately tenser wit Tim and Sasha’s arrival, a dangerous electric feeling.</p>
<p>“What have you got there, boss?” His tone is feigned cheeriness, dripping with sarcasm. “Some more pictures of my house? Some more notes on where I go after work perhaps?”</p>
<p>
  <i>What?</i>
</p>
<p>Jon straightens up, and does the best he can to reorganise himself, spuriously tucking recorders and papers into various pockets and bags. </p>
<p>“My notes are none of your business,” he says stiffly, “and my following of your movements are completely reasonable.”</p>
<p>“You’re one to talk about minding your own business-!” </p>
<p>At this point, Lucie sees a gap between Tim and Sasha, and decides to make a quick escape. Whatever conflict is going on between Jon and the rest of the archives lot, she wants absolutely no part of it thank you very much.</p>
<p>Ian may groan about always being to one to take paper and documents to people and places, but she’s willing to put up with that if it means she gets to stay a good distance away from Jonathan Sims.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>How are we all feeling about the new episode hmm?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucie, through out her life, has had several existential crisis. Jonathan Sims has caused at least 5 of them.</p><p>In theory, communications should not be that strenuous of a job. Forwarding emails, moving files, sorting through invoices, all of it <i>should</i> be mind-numbingly boring. </p><p>Lucie wishes it were mind numbingly boring.</p><p> Unfortunately, whatever evil spirit seems to have cursed her life won’t let her have a normal bloody workplace.</p><p>Oh, of course on the surface everything <i>looks</i> right. The statement givers, the new hires never really seem to notice anything amiss. Everyone does their jobs, and everything seems to function just like a normal workplace.</p><p>But stay too long, and things begin to creep up on you. The fact that there are moans periodically drifting though the halls from the direction of Artefact storage (pain or sadness? Lucie can never tell). The fact that the entirety of the archives crew always look like they’re two seconds away from committing various murders (all while committing crimes against fashion). The fact that computers placed too near to the archives will inevitably break, whether it be in two weeks or two months.</p><p>If she could, Lucie would probably find a new job. But honestly? London’s job market is hard enough to break into as it is, and Lucie really doesn’t have the time or motivation to go career hunting. If a staticky computer or the mysteriously whispering voices she sometimes hears are some of the worst things she has to deal with, then she’ll deal with them.</p><p>.....</p><p>One thing about working with communications, is that Lucie’s department gets all of the complaints, whether they be from statement givers or employees. Of course, Lucie doesn’t handle all of them, in fact actively goes out of her way to avoid dealing with them. People will complain about <i>anything</i>. There are even around a dozen angry emails from several different statement givers accusing the institute of giving them nightmares. </p><p>Like, what’s Lucie supposed to do about that?! Launch an investigation into hallucinations? Call up the police and get them to arrest subconsciousnesses? If there really is something giving the statement givers nightmares, then Lucie isn’t going to be the one investigating that, and any complaints referencing bad dreams of any sort are sent straight to the trash. </p><p>Though, she does sympathise with a few of the emails that complain about the fact that the Head Archivist looked seconds away from collapsing.
</p><p>
She undertands how that might be a little offputting.
</p><p>.....</p><p>Tim Stoker it seems, has taken to disregarding ever rule he could possibly find written in any book. First, according to Nena in Research, he goes on a long unauthorised holiday to Malaysia of all places. He then proceeds to do <i>no work</i> (that anyone can find), and completely give up on even trying to dress appropriately.</p><p><i>How</i> Nena knows that Tim isn’t doing work Lucie doesn’t know. But honestly, she never knows what’s going on in the archives, and she is more than happy to keep it that way. Lucie’s not even sure who works there anymore, it's not like anyone really comes in contact with the archive workers if they can help it. From what Lucie can glean though, Sasha’s done a disappearing act, and it seems like the two new hires, Basira and Daisy she thinks she heard someone call them, appeared out of nowhere.</p><p> But if Nena’s right (And she usually is), then Lucie really doesn’t know why Tim hasn’t been fired yet. She can’t imagine that Elias is all too happy with him. Yet, Tim remains in his job, and the communications department makes bets on how far removed from the dress code his next outfit will be; Crocs and Socks, a variety of aggressively neon coloured shirts, and on one occasion, an embroidered shirt that read <i>“Punks not dead, I am.”</i></p><p>Somebody, at some point, must have recommended Tim a make-your-own T shirt site, or perhaps he found it himself. But whatever method he discovered it by, the fact still remains that it is an utter game changer.</p><p>
.....
</p><p>
Lucie thinks she’s trapped in some sort of weird dream the first time she sees it, carrying a couple of invoices across the foyer. The T shirt that Tim is sporting reads I HATE MY JOB in large, capitalised white font. Its unmissable, and some of the few statement givers milling around the processing hall are giving him weird and/or concerned looks. Lucie falls on the concerned side of the spectrum. Sure, she hates her job too, but surely there are better ways to get fired than this? Lucie returns to her office, doubting the probability of Elias letting this slide.</p><p>
.....
</p><p>
Elias, apparently, is letting it slide.</p><p>This goes on, for the next week or so. Everyday, Tim’s t-shirt is worse than the last.</p><p><i>“I quit having a fulfilling life for <span class="u">this</span>”</i> is one of Lucie’s personal favourites, though Ian claims that <i>“If I died and went straight to hell, I wouldn’t realise”</i>  has more of a ring to it. There’s actually a chart in the break room, since nobody has seen Tim there for months everyone figured that he’d probably never find out. 
</p><p>
(Currently, the slogan: <i>“I don’t need sex the Magnus institute fucks me everyday."</i>  is topping the leader board).</p><p>
.....
</p><p>But, like all weird and confusing things, Tim’s t-shirt rebellion eventually comes to a culmination. </p><p>The day he walks in with a t-shirt reading “FUCK ELIAS BOUCHARD” on in massive writing, Lucie knows he’s crossed a line. He’s done the unthinkable, messed with the massive ego of Elias Bouchard, world's most pompous boss. </p><p>And finally, finally, after more time than Lucie would have thought possible, there is an all workplace email.</p>
<p></p><div class="window">
  <p class="topbar"></p>
  <p class="textfield">From: EBouchard@TheMagnusInstitute.com</p>
  <p class="textfield">Subject: Dress Code</p>
  <p class="textfield">To: All </p>
</div><div class="ebody">
  <p>It seems that some of our employees may need reminding of our dress code!
</p>
  <p>
Please look over the <span class="u">attached list</span> and be sure to make any changes necessary.</p>
  <p>Elias Bouchard.</p>
</div><p class="buttonbar"></p><p>The email circulates around the breakroom, and there is absolutely no doubt about who it is referencing.</p><p>“Why doesn’t Bouchard just fire him.” groans Ian email open on the computer in front of him. “I mean, if anyone other than one of the archive crew pulled that kind of stunt they’d be out of here like that. But oh no, everyone knows the archives are special, and can do no wrong. Like seriously! I’d almost consider applying for a transfer there if they weren’t so damn creepy.”</p><p>Upon the open screen, another email notification suddenly flashes monetarily. Ian clicks onto it, sighing.</p>
<p></p><div class="window">
  <p class="topbar"></p>
  <p class="textfield">From: TStoker@TheMagnusInstitute.com</p>
  <p class="textfield">Subject: Re: Dress Code</p>
  <p class="textfield">To: All</p>
</div><div class="ebody">
  <p>Fuck you.</p>
</div><p class="buttonbar"></p><p>They both stare at the email in mute disbelief. “Do you think,” wonders Lucie, “Tim knows he hits reply all?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lets hope this formatting works haha, I'm not actually sure if it's going to lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is often said, that getting a well paying (okay, averagely paying) job, will help to increase your quality of life.</p>
<p>Lucie is of the strong belief that her quality of life has only gone downwards since she first took a job at the institute.</p>
<p>Apparently, Jonathan Sims is no longer wanted for murder. How does Lucie know this, some outsider oblivious to the twisting mechanisms of the Magnus institute might ask?</p>
<p>Well, thanks to Ian, who had ventured reluctantly down into the archives in search of a workable printer. </p>
<p>He had returned pale  as the paper he’d been searching for, and shaking as if he’d seen a ghost. After Lucie had given Ian a few sips of the emergency vodka she kept stored in her desk, he had recovered enough to splutter out the information. </p>
<p>According to him, he’d turned on the light in a pitch dark room to find none other than Jonathan Sims, feverishly stabbing pins into an extensive corkboard connected with webs of sting that apparently had multiple pictures of clowns stuck up all over it, and who apparently had not noticed that he was <i>doing this all while in complete darkness?</i></p>
<p>If it was anyone else, Lucie might have doubted it for a minute but-</p>
<p>Oh, who is she kidding. Someone could have told her that the Archives were really a cult dedicated to an eldritch god and she would probably believe them.</p>
<p>Some warning might have been nice. Lucie can’t help but think. An email blast perhaps. Or a helpful notice: please do not panic; the head archivist is no longer wanted for murder. But no. the knowledge that the archives are no longer a crime scene is forced to trickle round the institute by vocal osmosis. </p>
<p><i>It is weird,</i> Lucie thinks briefly, <i>that the news never reported Jon being cleared for murder</i>. One day the police were questioning people about him, and the next it was like it had never happened. Probably a cover up of some sort. She honestly doesn’t get paid enough to care. </p>
<p>Maybe digging up blackmail might get her a raise? </p>
<p>No, she decides. It would probably just get her fired.</p>
<p>Maybe getting fired wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.</p>
<p>.....</p>
<p>So, there’s a staff meeting, and Lucie has drawn the short straw of being the representative from communications.</p>
<p>She sits at the crappy plastic table, flicking a pen idly against the piece of paper laid out in front of her. She’s not even sure what the meeting’s supposed to be about; she’d skim read the email. God, she hates bureaucracy.</p>
<p>Diana from the library glances periodically at the clock, and Rosie looks like she’s on the verge of dozing off.</p>
<p>The heavy office door is firmly shut, sealing off any outside noise. Probably a bit of a fire hazard that. They should really invest in getting lighter doors.</p>
<p>The clock ticks loudly on the wall above her, a clicking reminder of all of her time that’s being wasted.</p>
<p>Elias’ seat sits empty, a clear gap. It’s not like the man to go without paper work. Lucie thinks that Elias’ idea of holiday is probably one where he gets to fill out tax returns as a fun pastime.</p>
<p>Somebody coughs. Lucie doesn’t even bother turning around to glare at them.</p>
<p>The filament lights flicker brightly, only adding to Lucie’s oncoming headache.</p>
<p>Then, suddenly-</p>
<p>The door swings open, smacking heavily against the wall, and Lucie is assaulted by an onslaught of noise.</p>
<p>“Well, if you would just listen a second-“<br/>
“Listen?! To <i>you!</i>?”</p>
<p>Bouchard and Sims seem to be in the middle of a bitter argument, and Lucie resists the urge to just lay her head on the table and weep.</p>
<p>“<i>Why,</i>” hisses Jonathan, hands clenched, “Do  I have to be here <i>Elias</i>. There are more important things going on other than <i>budgeting.</i>”</p>
<p>Jon seems to have given up on any pretence of sophistication, and looks more of a mess than ever.  He’s dropped the jackets and shirts in favour of a hoodie that looks like it hasn’t seen the inside of a washing machine for all of recorded history, and is emblazoned with the logo of... a podcaster? Lucie didn’t even know Jon liked <i>What The Ghost.</i> </p>
<p>The initial clothing shock is so much that it takes Lucie a couple of seconds to really absorb the reality of what she’s seeing. Jonathan really looks like he should be taking an extended stay in a hospital. The “parasite” scars are as prominent as ever, but Jon seems to have added other scars to his extensive collection. </p>
<p>His eyes look slightly wild. His hand is hand is wrapped in a slightly unhygienic looking bandage, and it looks like somebodies taken a knife to this throat?! That <i>cannot</i> be right. Once again, Lucie questions everything she knows about the archives, and then places those questions in the folder of her brain marked: don’t think about. </p>
<p>Elias on the other hand, is a clear juxtaposition. He seems to live in grey: grey shoes, grey suit and those cold, grey eyes. Everything else about him is so mundane, so painfully dull. A middle-aged man who does paperwork for fun. But those eyes; they’re so very old. Like a shark, Lucie sometimes finds herself thinking, a hungry, emotionless shark.</p>
<p>Said shark is currently sighing into his hands, a tone that manages to convey equal parts condescending pity and disappointment, like somebody looking down to a small child. “Jonathan. As head of the archives department, it is mandatory that you be here-“</p>
<p>“<i>Mandatory!</i>” Jon seems to be set on going off on another spiral, his voice is almost choked with emotion when he speaks. “I’ll give you mandatory-“</p>
<p>Lucie sighs loudly. It’s an involuntary sound, and she regrets it instantly. Both Sims and Bouchard turn round to fix her with heavy gazes, and she suddenly understands the feeling of a small mammal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car.</p>
<p>Well, whether intentional or not, her interruption seems to have done the trick. Sims takes one last second to glower at Elias, and then sits down heavily in a plastic chair as far away from Elias as possible, though he has to take several strides to accomplish this. Elias sits down too, as if for all the world seating himself at a throne. </p>
<p>That’s another thing about Elias Lucie thinks. He has a way of making the world work for him, a narcissistic manner of walking. He also has a way, of fading into the background. Of disappearing out of your line of sight. And then suddenly, the second you’re badmouthing him, he always seems to find a way to be there, watching, waiting for you to slip up. Or at least that’s how Lucie feels. She’s not really in the habit of talking about what she thinks about Bouchard to  other people. </p>
<p>She suspects a therapist would tell her that thinking of your boss as a narcissistic prick isn’t healthy in a functioning workplace, but since she doesn’t have a therapist, she can just ignore those kind of thoughts.</p>
<p>There is a brief silence, as nobody seems to know quite what to say.

</p>
<p>Diana clears her throat, eyes darting around the room with nervous energy, particularly when they rest on Sims. She needn’t have bothered, Jonathan has his gaze fixed firmly on the table in front of him, and seems to be muttering quietly under his breath. His hair has grown considerably longer since the last time Lucie saw him, and now spills over his shoulders. It looks slightly ragged, though Lucie supposes, that’s not entirely his fault. Maybe he had a hard time getting a hairdresser whilst <i>on the run for murder.</i></p>
<p>“So, uh, welcome to the bi-monthly finances meeting I guess? I suppose we should get right onto the agenda then?</p>
<p>Elias gives Diana a small nod of approval, and without further hesitance, she plunges into a detailed spreadsheet.</p>
<p>“Well, if you look here, it seems most of our expenses are targeted at…”</p>
<p>Lucie has already zoned out.</p>
<p>.....</p>
<p>The meeting after that continues mostly as normal, basic funding discussions, the taxes, etcetera. Artifact storage wants money for a new pane of bullet proof glass, and Elias agrees without questioning.</p>
<p>(There will never be a day where Lucie doesn't find herself questioning what kind of "artefacts" they're really storing down there).

</p>
<p>Really, the only odd thing about the meeting is the angry staring contest that seems to be going on between Bouchard and Sims, though Sims continually has to push strands of hair out of his eyes which doesn’t do anything to help the effect.</p>
<p>But of course, as the meeting wraps up, things have to get weirder. It’s the Magnus Institute, nothing is <i>ever</i> normal.</p>
<p>Diana picks up a separate sheet of paper.</p>
<p>“I just thought we’d finish by addressing what is either a prank, or a very big filing mistake. It says here that the archives have requested funds for… explosives? And I mean obviously somebody must have made a typo but-“</p>
<p>“No.” Jonathan interrupts, the first clear words he’s spoken for all of the duration of the meeting. “No mistake. That’s correct.”</p>
<p>Diana opens her mouth, and then closes it again. Jon continues staring at her, unfazed. Lucie wonders when the last time she saw him blink was. His eyes are very deep. Very green too. Lucie doesn’t remember them being that green. Maybe he’s started wearing coloured contacts?</p>
<p> Diana shoots an almost pleading look towards Elias, who predictably enough, also appears unmoved. </p>
<p>The silence is almost palpable.</p>
<p>“Well!” Says Elias brightly, doing noting to diffuse the awkward atmosphere. “It seems that we’ve covered pretty much everything!”</p>
<p>“Does anyone have any more concerns or questions?”</p>
<p>
  <i>So, so many.</i>
</p>
<p>Lucie remains silent, and Bouchard’s smile grows wider, though Lucie realises, it does not reach his eyes.<br/>
Elias' smiles never seem to reach his eyes.

</p>
<p>“Right then, you’re all free to go. Jon, if I could perhaps see you in my office for a moment?”</p>
<p>Jonathan sighs heavily, a world-weary sound. Lucie would probably have felt sorry for him if he wasn’t so fucking creepy.</p>
<p>He stands up from the plastic chair, and follows Elias from the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.</p>
<p>Immediately, the room breaks out into quiet whispers, theories on whether this is the moment that Jonathan Sims <i>actually gets fired.</i></p>
<p>Lucie tunes it out. For the hundredth time, she gets the impression that she is really better off not knowing, and she sees her feelings echoed in the impassive faces of some of her older colleagues: those who have been at the institute long enough to know when to leave well enough alone. </p>
<p>Elias and Jon don’t look to be coming back any time soon, so Lucie gathers her papers, nods to the rest of the staff, and leaves.</p>
<p>Hopefully, Ian didn’t drink all of the vodka.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes! Exams are finally over and I don't have to think about them until july ahahh</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Partially inspired by a tumblr post by @waxworks1992 that I cannot get to link here lmao, as well as my own headcanons!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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